A Dish Best Served Warm
by Unoriginality
Summary: William plays a terrible prank on his mother.  Pre-series Envy and his family.


"Master William, we'll get in trouble for this!" Dirk whispered, even as he held the bag for William.

William paused with the shovel, pulled down his mask, crinkled his nose in disgust at the smell of fresh horse manure, then shook his head. "Come on, Dirk, you know I'll take full credit. I just need someone to hold the bag for me."

"Rosa will have your hide for ruining her bread pudding," Dirk hissed.

William lifted his mask back over to his nose and began scooping up a generous portion of horse shit into the bag. "She'll do nothing of the sort when the right people get a taste of this," the willful eleven-year-old said.

Dirk cringed, then tied off the sack after William had scooped enough manure into it. He handed the filthy thing over. "Here. I want no further part of this, Master William. You'll have to get Master Hohenheim to order me to do more, and he'd scold you for this."

William grinned as only an adolescent up to no good could behind his mask. "I daresay my father will laugh at Mother's expense," he said, then handed over the shovel and ran off.

He slipped into the back entrance into the kitchen, watched for Rosa's careful gaze, then slipped over to the bread pudding and upended his sack into it. Grabbing the serving spoon in the pudding, he mixed it together as well as he could, praying the strong smell of chocolate and cinnamon would overpower the even stronger smell of horseshit, then scampered out of the kitchen and back around to the entrance where the boys his age loitered.

Eventually, they trooped inside for further festivities, enjoying the party William's spoiled mother was throwing. Hohenheim stood with a small gathering of men and women who wanted little to do with Dante, his own allies amongst the nobility of Amestris, and William departed from the boys his age, most of whom he had little in common with anyway, and over to where his father and Jakoby and the others stood.

Hohenheim looked down at his son with a smile. "Hello, Brian. Where have you been?"

"With the other boys, Father," he lied, looking up innocently at his father, then snapped to attention when more food was brought out. Among the dishes brought out was the bread pudding.

William fought back a smile, watching the table intently as people filtered over from Dante's little group.

"What's so interesting over there, boy?" Jakoby asked him, noticing his staring.

William startled, then glanced back at the table as Dante helped herself to some bread pudding. "You'll find out," he muttered, smothering a smirk.

"Hohenheim, I believe your boy is up to no good," Jakoby said, looking at his friend.

Hohenheim looked down at his son, then over at his wife. He took off his glasses. "Brian? What did you-"

Dante's shriek and subsequent vomiting interrupted him. William started to laugh. Hohenheim sighed. "What did you do to the pudding, Brian?"

William beamed. "Just ask her," he suggested. "And if she touches a hair on Rosa's head for it, I'll kill her." His casual declaration brought an uncomfortable look to his father's face.

Hohenheim put his glasses back on, then walked over to where his wife was. "Problems, dear?" he asked blandly. From where he was, he could already smell exactly what William had done to the pudding, and he was torn between revulsion and amusement at Dante's expense.

Dante snapped her head up, giving him a vicious glare. "One of those miserable servants of yours did something to the bread pudding! I'll have their hides!"

Hohenheim crossed his arms. "You'll not touch Rosa nor any of the others that have served my family for years," he told her. "You can thank your son for the special ingredient that brought such a lovely green shade to your face."

William trotted over and grinned triumphantly at his scowling mother. "That's for sending that hideous girl after me and my inheritance," he said, sticking his tongue out.

Dante hauled back, aiming a strike square for William's face when Hohenheim caught her arm. "Touch him and you answer to me," he warned her. "I've told you about your meddling where William is concerned. You are to have nothing to do with him. I will deal with his future courtship, and you'll have no say in the matter. Now. Go clean up, you're making an embarrassment of yourself."

Dante yanked her hand free, glaring pure hatred at both Elric men, then stalked off, still gagging on the aftertaste of fresh horseshit.

Thinking he'd entirely gotten away with it, William stood behind his father, proudly smiling. Until Hohenheim looked down at him. "Brian?"

William wilted in his clothing. "She deserved it, Father," he protested lamely.

Hohenheim squeezed his shoulder, perhaps a bit too hard. "In the future, you are not allowed free run at these parties. You're to stay by me."

Feeling like he'd been kicked in the stomach, William nodded obsequiously. "Yes, Father." Well, at least he'd avoid those bubbleheaded, spoiled, vain, brats that Dante tried to make him make friends with.


End file.
